


How to stay warm in Nepal

by Prismatic_76



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Tension, Dirty Thoughts, Emotionally Repressed, F/M, Love Triangles, Slow Burn, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 01:03:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15718725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prismatic_76/pseuds/Prismatic_76
Summary: He pushed her up against the wall, one leather glove gripping her small wrist, his ammo belt uncomfortable against her thin bodice. “Quiet, don’t move,” his low voice instructed her.





	How to stay warm in Nepal

**T** he stone room was crowded with conversation and bodies; Mercy stepped carefully over Junkrat, fallen asleep on the cobble floor with a beer bottle clutched in each hand. Smoke smelling of McCree's signature cigar drifted from the darkest corner, but a bright fire roared in the hearth opposite.

            Mercy shivered; it was difficult to warm back up once you'd been outside, here in Nepal. But she'd wanted to check that Genji was awake at his watch post – perhaps that was paranoia, but there was a strange feeling to the air tonight, as if it were waiting for-

            "Mercy!" a high-pitched voice called excitedly. "Come sit with us, pleeease!" D.Va scooched over on a loveseat which already looked liable to break, supporting two girls and with Lúcio perched on the arm.

            As she sat down, D.Va wrapped both arms around Angela’s shoulders, and rested her head. "I missed you, Mercy. Will you stay now?"

            "Of course." She stroked the girl's long brown hair, and smiled over at Mei. "What have you girls been talking about?"

            "Lúcio was telling us jokes," said Mei.

            "Whaddya call a Torbjorn with two turrets?" Lúcio's eyes danced, and Mei frowned. "A love triangle!"

            "Is that really funny?" D.va complained. Mei giggled.

            "Hey there."

            _That voice._

            "Oh hey Soldier, how's it hangin'?" said Lúcio.

            "Alright, thanks." He stood there in the leather jacket, expression serious as always. Mercy tried to relax.

            "We're running a midnight op and we'd like a couple supports. Are you two up for it?" He glanced at her, cold blue eyes questioning.

            “You can count on me,” she replied, looking over at Lúcio.

            He grinned. “Like the lady said. Let’s do this!”

            Soldier gave a nod. “Assemble outside in five minutes.” He strode away towards the back door. Mercy breathed out.

            “Come back soon, okay?” D.Va whined, pulling the hug tighter.

            Mei kissed Lúcio on the cheek; a lip-gloss imprint stayed. “Stay safe out there!”

            Mercy thought she might have one strong drink before they left.

 

***

 **B** reath hovered in frosty clouds, thin air making each inhale count for more. Jack tried to breathe slowly, holding the oxygen in for a count of 8.

            "Did you find us a healer?" Reaper growled from the darkness.  Reyes didn't seem bothered by the cold: long jacket open as always, he leaned back against the stone building.

            "He knows what he's doing," said a strong voice. Sombra sat on a nearby wall, analyzing the state of her guns under the moon’s light. "I just hope there's no trouble from those snipers this time."

            "I'm not afraid of them," Reaper replied. Sombra rolled her eyes and cocked a pistol.

            The back door opened, spilling light onto the snow.

            "Here we are."

            _That voice_.

            It flooded into his head like warm water, melting a little of the anxiety deep down.

            "Let's get this show on the road!" said Lúcio.

            She stepped out of the doorway. How could a person embody a form so perfectly? Every curve, each bright glowing feather was beauty itself.

            Shit, he was staring.

            "Are we going to stand here all night?" Reaper demanded.

            "Move out. Healers behind. Try not to get yourselves killed." Soldier strode into the snow, shaking his head to clear it. They had a mission to carry out.

 

***

 **S** he was being stupid. _Get it together, Angela._

            She targeted Sombra to catch up, cold wind suddenly biting as Mercy soared airborne across the snow. Stars sparkled above in the open black dome of the night sky.

            Three sets of boots crunched nearby, but nobody was talking. It had been uphill for twenty minutes and breath came hard. Lúcio skated by.

            Mercy wasn’t sure when the feelings for _him_ had started. She used to be more relaxed when speaking to Jack; yes, it had been very normal, hadn’t it? So why wasn’t it anymore?

            _He pushed her up against the wall, one leather glove gripping her small wrist, his ammo belt uncomfortable against her thin bodice. “Quiet, don’t move,” his low voice instructed her. Her heartbeat pulsed too strong, breath shallow and body alert._ Oh. Yes, there was that incident three weeks ago. That had been surprising. But it hadn’t really changed anything, had it? Never mind that each conversation now seemed to carry a whispered subtext, _I need you_ , beneath every word. It was all in her head, right?

            Besides, there was no chance that he saw her that way. He was 18 years older, he was a soldier; he didn’t have time for silly girls and their silly feelings. She swallowed, trying to push down the consuming wave of thought that her heart was breaking at this logic. They were friends, and colleagues, and it didn’t matter that her eyes pointedly avoided the back of his broad shoulders ten feet ahead. _It didn’t matter_. She blinked a little extra.

 

***

 **T** he snow was falling heavier now, thick flakes swirling down in eddies. There would be three inches on the ground by morning, and that didn’t hold well for the mission. Get in, get out, don’t get shot. It was easy – soldiers lived for that kind of simplicity. So long as the weather held out; the last thing they needed was to get caught in a blizzard.

            Jack had two healers to protect. Never mind that he felt more protective of one of them. It was natural: Mercy was more integral to the team’s survival. Nothing more to it.

            Except there was. Except that incident three weeks ago had broken some cold, grizzly-veteran wall that he’d been building for the last thirty years, and now it had a hole, and there were feelings rushing in through that hole. It didn’t really help the anxiety, to be frank.

            “Morrison, what exactly is the objective this time?” Reaper made him jump, voice suddenly at his right ear. Reyes kept pace.

            “Get in, retrieve the target, no casualties,” Jack answered.

            Reaper made a noise of dissatisfaction. “What target?”

            Soldier glanced at Sombra, listening in on his left. She nodded in assent.

            “The target is a captive,” Jack explained. “The orders are to take them back at any cost. Higher ups are confident we can pull it off, we have blueprints of the building, it should be an in-and-out.”

            “Hmm. Too easy.” Reaper shadow-stepped ahead, and in a couple of minutes they all reached the mountain’s peak. Looking down over the side, a dark building loomed up, wooden construction, watch-towers strategically placed, spikes protruding.

            “Trick or treat,” Jack joked.

            “Just how I like it!” Lúcio jumped down ahead, and the team followed swiftly behind.

 

***

THREE WEEKS AGO

 **B** rigitte screamed, as Roadhog’s chain hooked deep in her shoulder, throwing her down on the ground. Peeking out from behind a village shack, Angela targeted her, beam ready, terrified at her friend’s shriek of pain. She would risk it, she lifted off towards-

            Jack slammed into her from the side and threw her up against the wall just as a bullet from Widow’s rifle zipped by, an inch from her halo.

            “Quiet, don’t move,” he said in a low voice. Brigitte was being dragged, away from the village centre, towards the ridge on the north side.

            “Let me go!” Mercy cried, struggling to free herself from his grip. He held her easily.

            She sobbed, “Please, Jack, I must help her!” She twisted in his arms.

            “I said, be quiet,” he growled, pushing his body closer to hold her still. Her wrist began to hurt from the grasp of his leather glove.

            “You’re hurting me,” Mercy whispered. He let go a little.

            “I’m sorry, I just can’t risk it,” he apologized. “Junkrat is down, and if you get hurt, we have no support; we have to get back to the base camp, we’ll come back for Brigitte.”

            She stopped struggling, giving in to his hold and pressing her face against the leather jacket. It smelled of aftershave and sweat, and she breathed in, comforted. He raised his free hand to the base of her ponytail, a gloved thumb caressing her neck. “I’m sorry.”

            They stayed like that for a moment, as the sounds of Pharah’s rocket launcher faded to the north. Though her own heartbeat was thudding in her ears, Angela thought she could feel his too, close and strong and reassuring. This place was safe, right here.

            He backed off, the frigid wind reclaiming the gap between them. With a comrade’s salute, he turned south, walking the alley between village shacks. She followed more slowly, staying behind as an injured Sombra joined them, arm held awkwardly. She tapped her beam, but the light didn’t seem as strong as it should. Sombra gave her a grateful smile.

            It was very cold in the mountains.

 

***

BACK TO PRESENT

 **T** hey approached the building silently, grouped up close, keeping one eye on the watch-towers. Soldier motioned to the right, and they headed along the exterior wall until a small door appeared. Reaper pulled it open, and Sombra darted in, scouting.

            She was back a moment later. “ _Todo claro_ ; all clear.”

            They entered a dark passageway, in what seemed an ill-used part of the lower castle. The smell of rotting latrines permeated. As they continued along, cell doors jutted into the passage, showing small damp rooms which were all empty. The temperature began to warm, and a dim oil lantern hung off the wall; its greasy light showed three cells at the end, with secured doors.

            “Brigitte?” Mercy called out, stepping forward. Jack grabbed her arm.

            She shivered at the touch, immobile.

            “Let’s not alert any guards,” Soldier warned.

            Then a soft voice replied: “Who’s there?”

            They moved forward as a group, and sure enough, Brigitte lay on the dirty straw of the cell, dark circles under her eyes and her shoulder at the wrong angle.

            “Get the door,” Soldier ordered.

            Reaper aimed and put a bullet through the lock, then hauled the gate open. “We’re here to rescue you, Lindholm.” He reached out a hand and tugged her up by the good arm.

            “I have to reset her shoulder,” Mercy said, brushing by towards her friend. She held Brigitte’s arm firmly, and the crack that followed drew a cry of pain. “There, we’ve got you patched up.”

            Sombra and Lúcio on either side, Brigitte walked – supported – down the passage. With Reaper and Soldier at the head, they returned the way they’d come. Mercy lingered behind, beam targeted on Brigitte. Her mind felt lost, fighting with itself.

            _You have your friend back, Angela! That’s all you should be thinking about._ But she was only half occupied with the mission’s objective, as she always was these days. The other half of her mind was swimming, saturated with hormones and edging towards the consuming fantasy of a relationship that could never be. _His hand on my arm. His voice in my ear. His worry for my safety_. Her swirling mind was so distracted, that when a different arm suddenly grabbed hers and hauled her into a side room, clamping a hand to her mouth, the scream that should have come out was only a muffled gasp.

 

***

“ **O** pen fire!” Soldier bellowed.

            Sombra’s machine pistol went off at the huge silhouette approaching from the passage end.

            “Welcome to the apocalypse!” a heavy, deep voice announced as the scrap gun fired.

            Quick thinking from Lúcio meant his sonic blast knocked Roadhog back for a moment, allowing Reaper’s shotguns time to weaken the wooden wall before he and Soldier crashed though it into the deep snow bank outside.

            “Go for the peak!” Soldier ordered. Brigitte hung on Reyes’ arm as he began hauling her up the slope, away from the building. Lúcio and Sombra followed quickly, Soldier bringing up the rear. Behind them, arrows launched from the nearest tower, spiking into the snow with sharp aim – too close for comfort.

            Soldier climbed backwards now, covering his team with the pulse rifle. Unable to see the enemy, his tactical visor wasn’t going to work – and where was Mercy?

            Shit. _Where was Mercy?_

            He paid for his hesitation with a steel-point arrow to the chest.

            Fallen on his knees, he could only hope the team had made it over the ridge. Visibility was failing as the night’s blizzard intensified; white-out conditions in the darkness created a black-out, and the moon had set.

            A voice carried out on the wind: “You are already dead,” it warned. The dim light of the archery tower went out, and the whistling wind roared across the icy slope. Soldier began to crawl.

 

***

 **M** ercy couldn’t process her surroundings as a strong body dragged her up a staircase. Her wrists were bound with rope, a blindfold wrapped over her eyes, mouth gagged. Suddenly at the top, she was dropped to the floor and fell on her side, trying desperately to hear and understand.

            The ping of arrows being fired? Where was she, where was the team? She was their healer, their life support – without her, how could they be okay? But she was frightened.

            “Stay down,” a quiet voice instructed. And Mercy thought she recognized that voice – but it couldn’t be, could it? He had deserted their side months ago, he had joined the enemy, yes – but firing at the team? Kidnapping her? Surely not.

            She wrestled to her knees, sitting up.

            “Stop it,” the voice came again, soft but with no hint of warmth. Yes, it was definitely him.

            More arrows. Then he – Hanzo – called out, “You are already dead!” His voice rang out into the night, sound enveloped by the blizzard. She heard a bow placed on the wood floor, then hands were gently pulling the gag from her mouth.

            “I’m sorry.” This time the voice sounded genuine, hurt. He carefully undid her blindfold, and she lifted her eyes to gaze into the face of the man who’d betrayed them.

            It was still as handsome as ever. Strong jaw, high cheekbones, discerning dark eyes – and a serious expression that rarely relaxed. “Hanzo, how could you?” she begged.

            He had the shame to look away from her eyes. “It is not for you to ask explanations of me.”

            “Why have you taken me here?” she asked him. Her hands were still bound, but she stood up, still graceful somehow. He looked back at her.

            “I think you know why, Angela.”

            She didn’t acknowledge that.

            “I couldn’t have you getting hurt, so I pulled you from the danger.”

            “Will you let me go now?” she pleaded.

            “You should tell no one of this,” he commanded. “If I let you go, you must keep silent on this matter. Say you fell behind. It will go badly for me if you do not.”

            “Why should I do anything you ask me?” she questioned.

            “My fate is written in blood,” he replied. “But if you think me insensitive, then you have made an error in judgement. My feelings for you remain unchanged, Angela.”

            This time she didn’t look away.

            “You know I have never returned those feelings, Hanzo.”

            He raised a finger to her cheek, rough pad smoothing the skin. “So you say.”

            So he still didn’t believe her. Well, that didn’t help her believe herself.

            “Untie me,” she requested.

            He did it, deftly. Those hands were an archer’s, gentle and precise, never wandering anywhere he didn’t mean them to.

            She flexed her fingers – free.

            “Your staff is behind you.” It was leaning against the tower’s railing, built high to keep the wind out, but with slots for defensive firing. There was a step to look over the top; she eyed it.

            “I’m going now.” She’d leap from the tower and let her wings carry her.

            “Are you happy, Angela?” he looked deeply in her eyes, searching for response. “He can’t make you happy, you know. His mind is scarred and broken; he cannot deserve an angel like you.”

            _How the hell did he know anything?_ It had been months since he’d last seen her, and surely _months_ ago, she didn’t have feelings for Jack – did she? And even if she did, how would _Hanzo_ know about them?

            He was close to her now. “I will let you go. I ask one thing.”

            She gazed up – he was taller than she remembered. “Yes?”

            “Remember this moment.” And he kissed her, leaning in, claiming her lips with a passionate fire she had not expected. Her body lit up, indifferent to her mind’s inner cries of injustice and faithlessness. The moment felt electric, and left her reeling. A storm cloud of confusion quickly took over, as he stepped back, dark eyes penetrating.

            She leapt to the air and flung herself out of the tower, descending towards the snowy slope below.

 

***

 **S** he swayed, stumbling on frozen feet as she staggered along the icy rock surface. The sun’s first rays were cast into the sky, and the orange glow of morning made her sick. Had everyone survived the night?

            A half hour later, Mercy arrived at base camp. She pushed open the door to find an unusual amount of activity for early morning – there was Mei in a bathrobe, delivering hot chocolates to Lúcio and Brigitte. McCree was fully-dressed, sitting on a chair with Sombra on his knee; they were having a worried conversation, but Mercy was too tired to listen. The embers of last night’s fire were being brought back alive by a pensive Torbjorn, who should have been on watch post shift.

            Lúcio looked up as she walked in, a wide smile of relief on his face.

            “I’m going to bed,” she mumbled, her mind a fog of exhaustion.

            “I’ll take you up!” Mei offered, hurrying to help her upstairs to a small bedroom. Each step was a challenge.

            Light was streaming in through the window of her room, but Mei pulled the curtain closed, and set a mug of chocolate down on the bedside. “Are you okay?”

            Mercy toppled onto the bed, barely conscious. She felt Mei pulling off her boots.

            “Did they make it?” she asked, voice weak and sleepy. “Is everyone back?”

            “Only you were missing,” Mei replied with a soft smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You… and Soldier.”

            Mercy felt a surge of something like grief, before the unconscious darkness took her.

 

***

 **E** verything was still.

            The snow wasn’t falling. The wind was breathless. A crust of ice had formed on top of the night’s fresh powder, and the surface glistened under the strong morning sun. You were closer to the sun, up here in the peaks. God seemed within reach.

            Soldier lay propped up against a boulder, lower body hidden by a drift of snow. His ears ached with cold, but he couldn’t feel his feet at all anymore: the mercy of frostbite. In fact, he was almost beginning to feel warm, but this was probably hypothermia setting in to stay.

            The arrow he’d pulled from his upper chest had left a bleeding wound, but the cold had mercifully slowed the blood-flow, and he didn’t think it would be the cause of death. That would be exposure.

            He’d climbed his way up on hands and knees until reaching the familiar ridge, but then had become lost and dizzy, eventually sitting down for a short rest which had turned into a haze of dangerous almost-sleep.

            _Well damn_ , he thought. It was about time to contemplate any regrets he had in life. He’d always been the kind to shove those regrets deep into a pit of PTSD hell, a place he never bothered to explore, but instead abandoned and sealed off, a heavy weight which would never lift from his soul.

            But there was one regret that refused to be sent away. She had wings, you see, and relentlessly shimmered back up again, a reminder of his failure, inadequacy and – dare he consider the word – cowardice. He was no coward in the face of war, but this – this had been a different animal altogether. This girl was a shining beacon which could not be resisted, a warm light which begged him to make her his personal sun. _Like that was ever going to happen._

            He chastised himself for what would probably be the last time. The girl was not for him. Too young, too bright, too lovely. What should he do with such a thing? Drag it down into the violent darkness of his broken soul? Shame on any man who risked such a thing. Mercy was a treasure, with a heart of gold and a power of healing unsurpassed. It wasn’t relevant that she was also _sexy as all hell_ and brilliant to boot.

            Yet why not give in, in these last moments? He had passed the test – he was a ready (if not willing) customer of Death any hour now, and he hadn’t broken his moral code. He’d kept his promise to protect those who needed it, to put himself aside and become what people called a hero.

            So, why not give in now? He could see her clearly; her expressions were burned into his brain sort of permanently (perhaps he shouldn’t have been watching her so often, but he’d never been caught). He imagined her perfect pink mouth, those bright azure eyes, the lithe body; most of all he imagined her golden hair twisted into his hands – no gloves this time – and the feeling of being pressed against her, breathless to his touch, begging him to-

            _Yeah, right_. If you’re going to have a fantasy, it has to have a certain realism to be believable. And he didn’t believe himself, not with her. Even on death’s doorstep, he couldn’t consider any possibility with the loveliest person he’d ever known. She would remain ephemeral to him, a wisp, a dream. His eyes felt clouded, that warm sleepy feeling settling down in his heart.

            “How embarrassing!” came a voice. “Get a load of this. Houston, ahem, we have a problem; and it’s my time to shine.”

            And with that, Jack Morrison was bodily lifted from the ground as a certain ape hefted him onto his back, and loped away in the opposite direction from base camp.

 

***

“ **I** need healing!” yelled Genji as he bounced by her head, blade sweeping wildly about. Mercy lazily flicked her beam onto him, then back to D.Va. She felt listless and out-of-it, but that was no excuse to skip fight practice – apparently. For some reason, Reaper was in charge now, and orders demanded they keep in shape for upcoming combat.

            “Oi, Mercy, hear me baby?” Torbjorn shouted. “I need healing! There’s no prize for coming in second.”

            She glared half-heartedly, healing him up while he hammered his beloved turret into place again. They weren’t doing well, but she didn’t care. Let McCree and Sombra’s team win, what did it matter? _He_ was gone.

            “Any last words?” yelled Reaper. “I’m calling it: McCree’s team wins. Take a break, people.”

            D.Va dived out of her mech, landing skillfully.

            Genji was quick to rush over. “Hana, I’m impressed! You were so good today.”

            She flipped her hair to the side. “We didn’t win, did we?”

            “You are only human,” he sympathised.

            D.Va glared at him. “Nice try. I play to win! I get the feeling you’re not taking me seriously.”

            He followed close behind her as she stalked off. _Cute_ , Mercy thought, _young love_. She wasn’t sure how hopeless his crush would turn out to be. Of course, nobody commented on that 16-year age gap. She wasn’t bitter about it, was she? Genji was young at heart; she couldn’t imagine dating him herself – he seemed so carefree.

            None of it really mattered now.

            It had been a week, and there was no sign of Soldier. People had become silent about it, not daring to face the loss they were all feeling. She wasn’t sure that anyone understood the depth of her own grief. After all, they had been nothing more than colleagues to each other, friends at the most. No one had known about her feelings (except apparently Hanzo?). It was better this way, though – there was no one to pity her.

            She spent a lot of time in her room. Mercy headed there now, slipping away from fight practice, hoping to go unnoticed.

            As she lay on the mattress and blankets, gazing out the window, her thoughts turned dark. What had she become? This version of herself was disturbing. She hadn’t realized how far she had fallen into these feelings, that they weren’t just a silly fantasy, but a deep and real longing. _I need you_. _Come back to me_.

            What would she do if he answered? If he walked through the door unharmed? In her head she played out the scenario – he would see her, stride forward and lift her up, she’d wrap her legs around his hips and he’d whisper in her ear, _I can’t fucking stand it anymore, I need you_ , and he would taste like a waterfall, filling her with promise.

            Or she would do nothing.

            Hang in the background, give a quick smile as he breezed past her to greet everyone, a riveting story of survival to be told. He’d bring them new tactical tips for the surrounding landscape, enemy information, that sort of thing. The last thing he would do is kiss her; it was ridiculous. She dragged herself upright to go downstairs; with any luck, she’d find a stray bottle of vodka to help her sleep.

 

***

 **I** t was three days later when a man walked into view of her window. Instantly, she could hear shouting: Where was Genji? He was supposed to be on watch! Had anyone seen D.Va, WHERE WERE THE SNIPERS?

            Mercy felt more awake than she had in days; she rushed downstairs and straight out the door, ignoring shouts of warning behind her. He was here. How was he here?

            Hanzo stood resolutely in front of the stone building they called home. Mercy burst out of the front door, furious.

            “What is this?”

            He kneeled before her. “I come to beg forgiveness. I have come to return.”

            Her colleagues had followed her out onto the rocky ground. Disbelief was mixed with panic on their faces – what should they do now?

            “Lock him up,” Reaper said. There was a cry of agreement, and Hanzo willingly submitted as Brigitte and Sombra tied his hands, then lead him to a _very_ secure outbuilding, designed for the purpose. Mercy exhaled.

            “Didn’t you tell us he was the one shooting from the tower when we rescued Brigitte?” Reaper questioned her.

            “Yes, absolutely,” Mercy answered.

            “Then he’ll have some questions to answer from me.” His face was set in a grim look as he followed the prisoner away.

            D.Va stepped up beside Mercy. “How strange,” she said, with a little frown. They went together back inside, arms linked – worried.

 

***

ONE MONTH LATER

 **J** ack Morrison felt strong as he hiked down from the cave for the last time. Winston stood outside, his home and laboratory within kept secret from the world. For Soldier, the cave had been a sanctuary, but it was time to head back to base camp. He was healthy again, and though he was sure that Reyes was keeping them in line, he had heroes to lead.

            It had taken a while to figure out where he was, but Jack now felt confident on his path. The hike should take around three hours, at a brisk pace. It felt good to have a purpose again, a mission. The pain in his chest had all but faded, and breaths came easily.

            The anxiety, however, grew with each step. Had his team made it back safely from recovering Brigitte? What happened to Mercy, had she rejoined them? He tried not to worry about her. Talking honestly with Winston over the past month had really helped his mental state. There was no sense in keeping up a fantasy about a woman young enough to be his daughter.

            He felt certain he could keep up the façade this time. No wayward thoughts, no hidden glances – just business, and cordial conversation. No need to think about her legs, or – or-

            He pulled an apple out of his pack and bit down. _One foot in front of the other, Jack_. Everything would be fine.

 

***

 **S** itting up on the building’s rooftop patio drinking hot cocoa with Mei was pretty pleasant. Mercy yawned – it was mid-afternoon, and the frosty bite of winter had begun to give way to spring. The sun shone brightly on the girls.

            “We’re gonna need sunscreen before long!” Mei remarked.

            “It’s still not very warm here. Hopefully we get relocated to Ilios next month like they promised,” Mercy replied.

            “I’ll have to buy a new bikini!” Mei exclaimed. They both giggled.

            Across the courtyard below them, Hanzo stood in the distance, taking his shift on watch. Mei’s expression soured as her eyes glanced over his far-off figure. “I still can’t believe we’ve decided to let him back, it doesn’t seem right.”

            Mercy contemplated her response. “None of us know how he explained himself to Reaper. We have to trust Gabriel’s decision. I believe Hanzo is genuinely repentant.”

            “Hmm,” said Mei. “D.Va still thinks he’s a spy.”

            “D.Va doesn’t trust anyone, though.”

            “Yeah, Genji’s not having much luck with that, is he?” Mei observed.

            “I wouldn’t claim to know a thing about it.” Mercy stirred her cocoa. She didn’t mind this lifestyle – her only worries came on the battlefield, when she worried about who needed healing. No men to trouble her – despite Hanzo’s continued intense gazing (which he thought she didn’t notice). Nope, Mercy didn’t need any man in her life. Wretched feelings were no longer acceptable.

            Sure, in the past a certain someone’s presence had disabled her basic mental and physical functions. But he was gone, and she was- well, if not exactly fine, certainly doing okay.

            The sound of Torb humming to himself floated up from below. Beside her, Mei was squinting into the distance. “Who is that?”

            “Hmm?” said Mercy, looking in the same direction. “Who is whom?”

            “That man walking towards us who looks like Soldier,” said Mei, having affirmed the shape of a certain broad-shouldered, leather-jacket-wearing someone.

            A bomb had exploded, surely; her ears were ringing, eyes blurring with the start of tears. “What?”

            “Oh my!” Mei exclaimed. “I have to go tell everyone!” She rushed into the building, headed downstairs.

            Mercy didn’t move. She couldn’t move. He was _back_? Her world was new again, and she couldn’t face it. Mercy fled.

           

***

 **T** he first question he’d asked was about his team – were they all safe? Reaper had reassured him: they’d all made it back to the base. The second question was _WHY IN THE HELL WAS HANZO HERE?_ , but Reaper had privately clarified that matter, too.

            They were now sitting around the fire with dinner, merrily sharing stories about the past few weeks apart. Mei had filled him in on the not-so-blossoming romance between D.Va and Genji, McCree had given him an affectionate pat on the back, and even Junkrat had insisted they do shots together in celebration.

            There was a nice warm hum in his head from the liquor, and Jack was beginning to relax. Being back at home base was better than he’d anticipated – Brigitte was fully recovered from her ordeal; even Torbjorn seemed jolly instead of his usual grumpiness. They all seemed thrilled to have him back, except perhaps Reaper, who would have to shed the mantle of leadership.

            There was one glaringly obvious element missing from this jovial reunion, but no one seemed to know where Mercy had got to. He didn’t like that. He’d wanted to face the matter head on, to try out his new calm demeanour, his new iron will in the face of all that is lovely. He couldn’t do that if the damn woman refused to appear.

            “I’m going for a walk,” he declared. “Clear my head.” Standing up too fast, it became clear that a head-clearing was sorely in need. Soldier stepped outside to get some cold, bracing air. He thought a lap around the complex would suffice, and headed off around the corner.

            Oh. He stopped in his tracks: there was Mercy. And as one would expect, she was _making out with Hanzo_.

            Well, _making out_ was probably an overstatement. In fact, it looked like the man had his hands where they weren’t wanted, if Angela’s “No, no, please stop” was anything to go by.

            Naturally, Soldier ripped Hanzo off of Mercy, and punched him solidly in the face. A tooth may or may not have cracked.

 

***

SOME TIME EARLIER

 

 **M** ercy flew as far as she could get while still keeping a safe distance to the base. She didn’t understand her reaction, but fully accepted what her brain was saying. She couldn’t face Soldier, not now, not after everything. It would be too hard to pretend now. Her feelings had shown their true colours when he’d disappeared, and now that he was back they could not be contained.

            Mercy knew her strengths, and in this she was weak. The moment she’d realized it was him, that he was back – every fantasy stored away in her mind flashed back into full-colour existence. _He wouldn’t want me_ , her brain protested. _I don’t care_ , her heart replied. _I still need you, Jack._

            The only solution was to flee the problem. She sat in silence on the thin carpet of snow, immune to its numbing effects. The sun was setting, warm pinks and yellows filling the sky with their beauty. She knew her heart could feel like that. And there was only one person for her, nobody else. She’d had relationships before: dalliances, romances; but not at this intensity. She admitted to herself: it had been months she’d been feeling this way about Soldier. Since the day they’d met, he’d been kind, protective, and honest; the battle scars on his face simply added to that rugged handsomeness he seemed to ooze. Not to mention the way he could make anything sound sexy in that voice, “I've got you in my sights” – _well damn, I wish you did_. _You can activate my tactical visor anytime._

            Mercy threw her head back in frustration. What was wrong with her?

            She had to go back to the base. She had to face him. The time was over for running away – _let’s get you back out there, Angela._

            It was getting dark and she hurried home.

 

***

 **T** he back door seemed like an easier choice. Mercy approached the stone building quietly; unfortunately Hanzo was waiting there in the shadows.

            “Hello,” she greeted him, hoping she could side-step and slip in through the door.

            He had other ideas.

            As she got closer, Hanzo grabbed hold of her shoulders with his strong hands. “Angela, you must listen to me. I know you think about me; I think about you too. Please, we should be together.”

            “No, Hanzo,” she replied, moving away towards the door. It didn’t work – he simply backed her against the wall. Something seemed familiar about this situation…

            “I think you will discover your true feelings if you give them a chance,” he insisted. “You must allow me to show you the way.” He drew closer, and she could smell sake on his breath.

            “Hanzo, this is not the way. Please let me go.” She was angry now, this didn’t feel right at all. He was handsome and charming, yes, but he wasn’t _him_ and so it could never work. She didn’t _need_ him.

            Hanzo wasn’t listening. He leaned in, lips on hers, gripping her shoulders forcefully.

            “No, no, please stop,” she begged, turning her face away.

            Intent on his purpose, Hanzo never saw the right hook coming. There was a slight cracking sound as a leather fist connected with his face, and then he lay in the snow, blissfully aware of absolutely nothing.

*

            Her saviour was breathing heavily, in a way not equal to the effort of the fight, as if some deeper feelings had sparked adrenaline.

            “Thank you,” said Mercy.

            Now he looked over at her. “Sorry if that wasn’t what you wanted,” Soldier said _in that sexy low voice_. She shivered.

            “Oh, I didn’t want to kiss him, if that’s what you mean,” she replied, rolling her shoulders; they felt a little bruised. “We aren’t close.” Her wings twitched nervously.

*

            She was as beautiful as he had remembered: stunning, perfect, lovely – just not for him. But what was going on here? “So you don’t trust him?” Soldier enquired.

            “I trust Reaper’s decision,” she responded slowly.

*

            “Then why not kiss him?” he joked stiffly. It was unlike him. “Hanzo’s handsome enough; if he’s really on our side, he’s a good man.”

            “I can’t.” She gazed up at Soldier, her eyes steady though every nerve in her body was trembling.

            He seemed to sense her anxiety, blue-grey eyes questioning, concerned. “Why not?”

            “Because of you.” A tear ran down her cheek, emotional overload compounding.

            “You think I wouldn’t like it?” Soldier replied, frowning slightly.

            “You wouldn’t care,” she suggested, hoping with every fibre that he’d contradict her.

            “Maybe I would.” His voice was low now, softer than before.

            She had to confess. “I need you to, Jack. I need you to have a problem with it.”

            He looked lost now. Or panicky. “Why’s that? You want me to make him back off?”

            Suddenly everything was simple. The time for pretense was over. There was only here, and now, and this moment. “I want you.”

            “You want me to what?”

            “No, Jack,” she said simply, “I want you.”

            He froze for a moment. Something seemed to be processing behind those frosty-blue eyes. “I can get rid of Hanzo. Don’t worry about it. I… I think you’re confused.” He backed away from her.

            “Wait, Soldier, please,” she begged him. “Are you saying you don’t want me?” She held his gaze.

            He swallowed hard, as if fighting something. Or maybe she imagined that part. “Mercy, you aren’t for me. I… excuse me.” And he hurried around the corner.

She fell to her knees, face in her hands as if they could shut out the cold dark world. Breathing ragged, she slipped onto the floor; it was over.

 

***

 ** _M_** _otherfucking Christ, what was he supposed to do with this?_ This hadn’t been part of the plan, the most perfect person in the world _confessing her actual feelings_ for HIM. He stormed back into the stone building, oblivious to the wide-eyed expressions of those around him. _It shouldn’t be this hard, it can’t happen like this, I don’t want to be alive like this_.

            That was it. He had tried. The world could end for all he cared. _Tactical necessity_. He stormed back outside.

            “Angela, get up.”

            She just looked up at him with those dazzling azure eyes, broken.

            So he fell to his knees beside her. “Forgive me, Mercy. I’ve never been in love before. I don’t know how to do this.”

*

            She could suddenly breathe again. It came in laboured short breaths, head spinning. Did he just say _love_? Was she losing her mind?

            No, there he was, on his knees on the cold stone ground beside her, begging.

            She took his hands, carefully pulling off the bulky leather gloves. “I need you to touch me, Soldier. Put your hands on me.”

*

            This was enough. He pulled her into his lap, hands moving over her body, moving up her spine to the neck, burying into her golden hair. He held her face towards his, still trying to absorb the reality that this creature, this woman wanted _him_. He’d wanted her since before he knew her name. There was no part of her that he didn’t burn to possess.

            Age didn’t matter, rules didn’t matter; desire and trust and _need_ were all-consuming. He could feel her heart beating; she smelled like candy, sweet wonders teasing his senses. He wanted to find out how close you could get to another person.

            She raised one hand to his scarred cheek. “Take me,” she whispered. “Take all of me.”

            He stood up, lifting her with him, and carried her up the back staircase, legs wrapped around his waist and face buried in his neck, warm breath on cool skin. He found a room – his room, her room, what did it matter – and carefully placed her down. She shook her head slightly, and reached up to press down his shoulders so he was sitting on the mattress. Then she climbed back onto his lap; she was glowing, wings slightly open, eyes like stars.

            When he kissed her, a panicked desire burned in his chest and he turned her over, laid her down on the bed and pressed his body into hers. For the first time, he noticed that leather could be uncomfortably constricting.

            “Soldier,” she murmured in his ear, the smile in her voice making his heart race. “Promise me something.”

             He pulled back and got lost in her eyes again.

*

            His hands pressed hers into the bed, and her senses were immersed in leather, sweat, aftershave, and something which reminded her of an alpine forest. He was all instinct, she could feel his need for her. “Please,” she begged him, “if we’re going to do this-“

            “I can’t be without you anymore,” he promised.

            “Have mercy.”


End file.
